A Second Glance Chapter 1, a game of thrones fanfic | FanFiction
Sharing one of the fics I am currently fawning over.
I know I haven't written for Taming of the Mad Dog for long. I wish to take this chance to announce I have resumed (though in very little steps) its continuation, which I credit to ParallelDragonfly's budding work. In the mean time, I recommend this unique take on Ramsay/Sansa:
Domeric Bolton is a man hiding in the islands from the pain of his past, cherishing his isolation, when a pregnant stranger washes up on shore, the sole survivor of a shipwreck, and none other than Sansa Stark, who carries painful memories of her own. Sansa brings light into Domeric's world, but as their friendship blooms into love, past secrets threaten to take it away || ParallelDragonfly
Summary: Based loosely on this prompt: sansa&ramsay: glory&gore from @asoiafrarepairs
**This will be a very dark fic. Sansa has finally reached the end of her rope and it’s time she let that wolf blood take over. Arya is not the only Stark female with a sharp bite.
The night had proven to be long. Sansa had tossed and turned. Her mind on too many things. Too many ghosts. Sleep was becoming a long lost memory, along with the fading faces of her family. Each one so blurry and distant now. So far gone. Never to be seen again. She was not exactly sure why she was feeling all these empty emotions now. This was not the time for them. She had to be strong. Like her lady mother. But everything was thrown into disarray; again. Nothing seemed to fit into its place anymore. Sure, the direwolf banners rippled in the breeze again, but what did it really matter? Everything she had ever wanted was gone from her. And perhaps Ramsay was right. The North did not look to her as their savior. They looked to Jon. The King in the North.
That thought made her frown as she stared at her reflection in the mirror at her vanity desk. Her mind shifting to this Targaryen woman. The would be queen. The woman who was claimed to have three dragons. The woman who was claimed to have an army full of savages like Westeros had never seen. The woman that Jon was unwittingly enough going to see under the pretense that she would lend help to their cause. She would have to intervene in this somehow. She would have to gain the loyalty of the North to her, and only her. A Stark. And Jon was not a Stark.
"No." She suddenly said aloud, shaking her head at herself. What was she thinking? That was not like her. Or was it? Who was she anymore? Porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Steel was cold an unrelenting. Was she truly at that stage? Ramsay is just getting to me. Playing his games. She thought to herself, reaching for the goblet of wine before her on the desk. That was what she would make herself believe. All of this was his fault, some way or another. She had no one else to blame; but she could place all the blame she wanted on the man who had done his best to break her completely.
A knock on the door made her jump. She turned quickly in her chair, "Enter!" She said, smoothing out her still lank hair. She had been in the process of fixing it, but had been too absorbed in her fatigue to get that far yet.
Jon walked in quietly, closing the door just as quietly behind him. "I hope I am not disturbing you, so early."
Sansa gave a wan smile, "No. I have been up awhile."
Jon nodded. He could feel the exhaustion around her. He took a seat on the edge of her bed, staring down at his hands. "Sleep has not been a friend of mine either."
"No, I suppose it has not. Things are very different for us both now." Sansa confirmed with a small sigh.
"Aye. I came here to let you know I will be leaving soon. But also... what do you plan to do with the Bolton bastard?"
Sansa chewed the inside of her bottom lip and took her time in answering. That was a question she had been asking herself since she left him chained in his own blood after deciding against feeding him to his own hounds. "Nothing." She finally said.
Jon scrunched his brows in confusion and shot her a bemused look. "Nothing?"
Sansa nodded. "Nothing. You see, the way his mind works... always playing games. He's expecting something. Some kind of retaliation from me. For me to hurt him. And I told him it was my turn to bestow upon him the same as he did to me. However, nothing is best. For now. It will eat away at him. The constant anticipation. He will break himself in his madness and wonder. Because that is what monsters do. That is what tyrants do. They rip themselves apart. And I look forward to seeing that."
"Sansa, I think you are underestimating hi--"
"No, Jon. I am not. It was you who underestimated him. No one alive knows him better than I. I am his wife. I have lived with him. I have watched him play his games. I have been the subject of many of his games. I am a slow learner. I have been told this. Many times. But I know Ramsay. He cannot hurt me anymore." She cut across him. An edge to her voice. She was resolute in her thinking. She would not be wavered.
"Of course, Sansa." Jon relented, watching his sister carefully as he stood.
She gave him another wan smile, "You need not worry."
Jon simply nodded again, his face impassive and solemn as ever. He did worry. He worried for Sansa. For her mind. Davos was right, she was no longer the girl he had once known who dreamed of noble knights and fair crowns made of flowers. Of kind hearts and soft love. He averted his eyes from her and rubbed his hands together for want of something to do with himself. "Of course. I need to finish getting things ready. I hope to leave by midday."
Sansa just gave a wave of her hand to show that she had heard him. He took that as his approval to leave, saying nothing else. She gave a small sigh when she was finally alone again. At a loss of what to do about anything. Just as Jon could not convince her to rid the world of the Bolton bastard, she could not change his mind in leaving. A small pang in her chest at the idea that Jon, her only surviving relation may never come back once she saw him through those gates. Then she would truly be alone in this world. She finished her hair, pacing her chambers for a while before deciding to leave and see the rest of the castle. People would start to talk and wonder and worry if she kept herself shut away. But that was all she wanted anymore. To be alone and left to her own devices.
She gave forced smiles to those who bowed to her as she walked down the halls with her head high. "Has Lord Bolton been attended to this morning?" She asked a passing serving girl.
"Yes, m'lady." The girl said, bowing her head to her lady.
Sansa gave a simple nod. Her mind still not made up entirely about what to do with Ramsay. Though, she supposed she would probably have more piece of mind if she ordered his damned tongue be removed. It would make him less likely to utter annoyances in her ears, at the least.
A small sigh, watching men coming and going, making last minute preparations to go south with Jon. A small warmth of hurt and anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach at the thought again. Mind swimming back to what Ramsay had said the night before. She knew it was all a game to him, and his words were just that, words. She hated that he was making her second guess all her own, private thoughts. She tutted at herself, making way further down the hall. She would see Jon off, as was her duty as the lady of the house. Then she would ask the gods to keep him safe -- if the gods even heard her anymore. But more importantly, she would start helping those in need of their lady's help for winter. Because she cared about her people, in the now. Not some fantasy future where things turned out okay because you simply hoped they would.
Perhaps she would make Ramsay come with her to visit the people in Winter Town. He’d complained about them many times in her presence. How they meant nothing. How they deserved whatever ailments happened to them. She may even make him sit with her while she preformed her duties and listened to grievances of the people she ruled over. As many of them were likely to place the blame on Ramsay for all he had done. The lives he had taken. The sons who were now dead at the hands of his battle. She did not expect him to be sorry or feel any remorse, but maybe it would annoy him and get under his skin. Enough for him to crack even further. His violence and wrath no longer held any power here.
Parading him around may give him enough humility to calm the beast like temper. Even if just enough to open up his mind. She had many questions for him. Questions she knew he would not answer freely or truthfully. But even a cliff face eroded when enough of the sea continually crashed into it. It was her turn to play games and no one would feel sorry for Ramsay.
Mind made up she decided she would visit Ramsay and then see Jon and his company off. Feet carrying her to the chamber she had requested be made for Ramsay, stopping before a guard as he gave her a small bow and unlocked the door. He made to open his mouth and speak, but Sansa waved the words away before they were out of his mouth and he simply gave her another nod as she walked into the room.
Closing the door quietly behind her, eyes falling on Ramsay immediately. Lounging comfortably on his bed, leg hanging off the edge and tapping idly against the stone floor. He picked his head up slightly and gave a coy smirk to Sansa.
“My sweet lady wife, what a pleasant surprise on this chilly morning.” He said, sitting up completely and nodding to the window, the sky overcast and a chill in the room despite the fire and the warmed walls of Winterfell itself.
Sansa pursed her lips at his welcome. “My lord.” She responded curtly, stepping further into the room and casting a quick look to the window.
His cold eyes examined her closely, trying to determine what the stony look on her face meant. Why she was wearing such a cold, hard mask. But he held his tongue. He would let the prey come to him. He was still a hunter, even without his weapons.
However, Sansa seemed in no hurry to rush into anything as she too examined him closely. She stood tall and proud, no fear in her features. She was the noble huntress this time. And Ramsay would not take that from her. Not now. Not ever again.
“Something is troubling you, my lady?” He finally said in the form of an inquiry. A brow raising ever so slightly.
“I thought that maybe you would accompany me today. I am riding out of the gates later to visit the people of the village.” She said smoothly, watching his face closely.
“Well, I dare say I am in no position to deny my lady, am I?” He said back with the same satiny smoothness. Even though inside he was very curious to know what she was up to.
Sansa gave a nod and turned her back to him, reaching for the door without another word.
“Wait.” Ramsay blurted, confused and stung that she did not further acknowledge him or engage him in more conversation. “That’s it?”
Sansa hesitated and threw a simple look over her shoulder at him. “Aye, my lord. That’s it.” She felt a small smugness in her chest as she watched his features deflate a bit. Almost as if she could see his mind working quickly to try and figure out what had happened. “I shall send for you when I am ready. I will be sure to supply you with a fine, heavy cloak. It is chilly after all.”
Ramsay watched her leave and gave a very sour look at the heavy door as it closed behind her. Hearing the heavy lock click back into place. How dare she treat him as such. He’d get back at her. He’d find a way. He still controlled her. He had to. If he didn’t... he’d have lost. And he would not lose.
also D&D: *throw away the possibility of a dark!sansa & a great dynamic between the two of them where Sansa would manipulate the shit out of Ramsay just to make her a victim AGAIN, like she hasn't suffered enough*
